The Winchester Brothers
by The Wayward Angel
Summary: Strangers have come to Night Vale driving a '67 Chevy Impala. They call themselves the Winchesters. Who are they? What do they want? Night Vale/Supernatural X-Over


**Author: The Wayward Angel  
Story: The Winchester Brothers  
Word Count: 1075  
Chapter: 1/1  
Pairings: None  
Spoilers: None  
Trigger Warnings: Language  
Summary: Strangers have come to Night Vale driving a '67 Chevy Impala. They call themselves the Winchesters. Who are they? What do they want?  
Disclaimer: Neither Welcome to Night Vale or Supernatural are mine.**

**Unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine. Please feel free to point out any grammatical or spelling errors.**A

_The Winchester Brothers_

Turn on the radio. Run and hide. No one is safe.

Welcome to Night Vale.

Two Strangers have come to our bustling little desert city. They came in a black, '67 Chevy Impala. It is a very nice looking car; one I am willing to bet will be in their family for _generations_. They call themselves the Winchesters, Sam and Dean. Who are they? What do they want? In any case listeners, it would be best simply to ignore them. Do not tell them anything. Like all Strangers they will eventually leave, then come back, a bit different from when they left. Perhaps their hair will have turned white, or they will have lost all their teeth.

Reports are coming in about a group of dogs, wandering the borders of Night Vale. They are big and black, stand on two legs, and seem to have a dislike of silver. They have not yet harmed anyone, but listeners I urge you to stay _away_ from them. Just in case. They do not appear to be friendly.

I am receiving a report now from the City Council that the big and black dogs at the edge of the town have just eaten two school children.

More on this story, as it develops.

Saturday will be the mandatory town pot luck located in the abandoned warehouse just behind Rico's Pizza. Please remember that the heavier the pot you bring, the more it hurts if you, unluckily, must be smashed in the head with it. Cast iron pots look nice, but OW-that's a concussion waiting to happen.

Sweet listeners, we just received news that three more have been taken by the big and black bipedial dogs. Only the arm of Mary Simmons, the woman that runs the Bakery and makes those delicious scones, was found. How do we know it was her? We just do.

Listeners, I am now being told that those two Strangers, Sam and Dean Winchester, are _fighting_ those dogs. Yes, you heard me right. It would seem that they've managed to take down two of the animals, and are fighting the other six. They are stabbing the big and blacks dogs in the heart with what seems to be a silver stake.

The older, and smaller, of the two –Dean, who looks gorgeous but not _as gorgeous_ as our scientist _Carlos_ is bleeding. Yes, from over the eye. Ouch, he got hit pretty hard. The younger, Sam, who looks like a moose –a moose, what a silly creature- just killed the last of them.

Looks like we won't be worrying about those dogs anymore, dear listeners!

Now, the Sheriff's Secret Police have asked for the Winchester Brothers to leave, as it is discourteous and distasteful to kill big and black bipedial dogs in the middle of the day in front of an entire town.

The brothers did not acknowledge that they heard the Sheriff's Secret Police in any way, shape, or form, but they must have because they are getting in that nice, black, '67 Chevy Impala and leaving.

Boy, they sure were _strange_.

And, now, a word from our sponsors.

_Heavy breathing._

Again, McDonald's is saving our souls, one Big Mac at a time! And now, the weather.

_I'm on a boat (I'm on a boat)  
I'm on a boat (I'm on a boat)__  
__Everybody look at me cause I'm sailing on a boat (sailing on a boat)__  
__I'm on a boat (I'm on a boat)  
I'm on a boat__  
__Take a good hard look at the motherf******g boat (boat, yeah)__I'm on a boat motherf****r take a look at me  
Straight floating on a boat on the deep blue sea__  
__Busting five knots__, __wind whipping out my coat__  
__You can't stop me motherf****r cause I'm on a boat__Take a picture, trick (trick) I'm on a boat, bitch (bitch)__  
__We drinking Santana champ, cause it's so crisp (crisp)__  
I got my __swim trunks__, and my __flippie-floppies__  
__I'm flipping burgers, you at Kinko's straight flipping copies__I'm riding on a dolphin, doing flips and s**t  
The dolphin's splashing, getting e'rybody all wet  
But this ain't Seaworld, this is real as it gets__  
__I'm on a boat motherf****r, don't you ever forget__I'm on a boat and,__it's going fast and__  
__I got a nautical themed__pashmina afghan__  
__I'm the king of the world, on a boat like Leo__  
__If you're on the shore, then you're sho' not me-oh__  
{Get the f**k up, this boat is REAL!}_

Well dear listeners, those two Strangers are long gone. In fact, I'm not sure if they were ever even here. Perhaps they were only a figment of our imagination, a hallucination seen by everyone at the same time. Is anything that we see real? Or are we all just a byproduct of each other's imagination? Nothing more than the thoughts of some lunatic, sitting there, behind a computer and typing words onto a keyboard. What if, my dear listeners, what if, we are all simply fiction? Just something to amuse ordinary folk in an ordinary world. Nothing more than thoughts and expressions, not solid or material.

What if?

Do not forget to set your clocks forward by three hours tonight, as is our custom every Frabulous Holiday. Clocks will automatically reset themselves in three weeks' time.

Now, sweet listeners, it is time for us to turn in. Turn off the radio and tuck into bed. Just forget that looming shadow in your closet, it's probably nothing. Good night, Night Vale. Do not forget to dream.

This week's proverb: Shoot for the moon, even if you miss, you'll land among the stars…where you will slowly suffocate and die because space is a cruel vacuum without air.

The weather was The Lonely Island's, _I'm On A Boat._

**End**

**Allie: I'm sorry? No, not really. This was kinda fun and I'll probably never do it again. I'm sorry I butchered you Cecil I love you! Reviews are something I won't forget, no matter how much I drink.**


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